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"He must have been a man
of the right kind."
"Oh, he meant well, the old rascal," replied the Count with a curious
little smile.



CHAPTER XIV


Denis descended from the Old Town. At a turn of the road he overtook
the bishop who was moving slowly in the same direction.
"How is Mrs. Meadows?" enquired the young man.
"Not particularly well, I'm afraid. And the Count?"
"Oh, quite all right."
They walked along in silence, having little to say to each other. That
visit had done Denis good; he would return soon again, if only for the
purpose of cheering up the lonely old man who, at the last moment, had
given him a photograph of the Locri Faun, with a kindly inscription
from himself. He was not to show it to anybody, the Count had said--not
yet! The government must not hear about that relic--not yet! Later on,
perhaps very soon, everything would be in order. Denis cherished that
photo in his pocket. He was thinking, too, of the pastel--the face of
Matilda, which seemed like a star shining through the mist.


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